


Progress of Life

by HanahKim5



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: BTS might be mentioned, Bottom Eddy, Brett is top tho, Ha this is my first time leave me alone, I don't write smut well ok, I love jealous Brett, I'm a sucker for breddy, Implied Smut, Insecure Eddy Chen, Jealousy 100, Less focus on Youtube, M/M, OCs as well - Freeform, Protective Brett, Romance, Secrets, Somewhat possessive Brett, This is my first wish me luck, Top Brett, Weird things happen y'all, YouTubers - Freeform, Youtubers Breddy, gay af, ig, slowburn, twoset - Freeform, twosetviolin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanahKim5/pseuds/HanahKim5
Summary: This is basically a very, very slow-burn-y fic. They're progressing from friendship to a relationship, and let's just say I didn't realize I would ever publish this until the second I'm writing this and actually it's a very bad idea but I'm doing it anyway. The work will be alternating between Eddy and Brett POV, but Brett's will be his take on the events that will occur in Eddy POV. So. Yeah.Excerpt:Was he not good enough? Was that why she left him?Or was he good enough but the other guy was better than him?Or maybe the guy played violin, piano, and tuba and had been a child prodigy who toured the world and was now a millionare.Or maybe...Brett sat next to him on the couch, where he'd been sitting for the past half hour thinking up reasons his girlfriend could have said the words she'd said. "Dude, you okay?"
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 19
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

Was he not good enough? Was that why she left him?

Or was he good enough but the other guy was better than him?

Or maybe the guy played violin, piano, and tuba and had been a child prodigy who toured the world and was now a millionare.

Or maybe...

Brett sat next to him on the couch, where he'd been sitting for the past half hour thinking up reasons his girlfriend could have said the words she'd said. "Dude, you okay?"

Eddy kept his eyes on the floor. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just some stuff going on."

Brett pat his shoulder sympathetically. "Girlfriend?"

He huffed out a laugh. "You could say that."

"Want to talk about it?"

Eddy shrugged, playing with his hands. He couldn't say much anyway. He'd been bisexual for the past five years and never told his best friend because Brett had been his almost-gay awakening. That would've been awkward. Then he'd met Toni, and they'd dated for a while. And then a few months later he'd met-

"Let's make a video!" he decided, purposely cutting off his thoughts with the first idea that came to mind. Eddy plastered on a smile and glanced at Brett. "We should do charades or something again."

Brett looked at him for a few moments, his eyes as serious as Eddy had ever seen them. "Maybe we should talk first."

He raised an eyebrow playfully. "What's there to talk about? TwoSetters are waiting out there, Brett."

And because Brett was secretly a softie and couldn't refuse the younger man most of the time, they were making a video.

Eddy kept the smile on and joked, tried to annoy Brett by poking at him, and thought he'd done a pretty damn good job fooling everyone for 10 minutes when his best friend tapped him on the arm from behind him and said, "Let's talk."

"Brett. There's literally nothing. We can practice together if-"

"Are you fucking serious right now? Eddy. What's wrong?"

He thought about his ex-girlfriend, who'd broken up with him during their afternoon date with the introductory words, "I found a better guy."

Ouch.

Then she'd added, "But we can still be friends, right?" And of course Eddy had nodded and fake-laughed and faked everything until thirty minutes passed and he'd arrived at his house and collapsed onto the couch because what else could he do?

He hadn't counted on Brett being there - especially because they lived in different places - or noticing that something was wrong.

His smile faded.

"Have you ever been in a bad relationship?" Eddy mumbled, his hands pressing into his face as they sat together on the couch for an unfortunately serious discussion.

"Why?"

"Just... have you?"

"Did she do something?" The concern in Brett's voice turned to anger. "Abuse? Did she cheat? What?"

"Dude, can you, like, answer the question?"

"What do you mean by bad?"

"Like it ended badly."

"How bad?" Brett asked.

Eddy looked at him. "Dude."

"I am being completely serious right now. Like how bad?"

"Paganini-gambling-his-Stradivarius-away bad."

"Fuck."

Eddy sighed. "Yeah."

"I've only been in, like, three relationships, and they ended cleanly, so... no." Brett looked at him with a frown. "Dude, what happened?"

"Nothing important."

"What happened?"

Eddy fell back against the couch and stared at Brett to his left. "Do I start from the beginning or the end?"

"Doesn't matter."

He rolled his head back to the front. "She said she found another guy."

"What?"

"And that he was better than me. And that she wanted us to be friends still so I just sat with her for thirty minutes until it was over." The clock was ticking at G. G flat? No, definitely G. He didn't like it.

"What? Are you serious? Did she actually say that?"

Eddy kept his eyes on the clock. That wasn't all that had happened, but it was good enough to appease Brett for now. "Yeah."

"Bitch."

Surprised by the depth of the fury he heard, Eddy sat up and looked at Brett. What he saw took his breath away.

The other man was sitting rigidly and frowning so hard there was no doubt about what he felt. And his body...

"Dude."

"That fucking whore."

"Brett, just let it go."

"Let it go? Really?"

"Brett," Eddy groaned, covering his face with his hands again. "At least for now. I'll deal with it."

"And you just sat there for thirty minutes? Why?"

He shrugged. "She wanted us to be friends."

Brett tugged at his arms. "Dude, listen to me. Eddy, listen. Look at me."

He let his arms fall away and met his best friend's gaze. The anger and indignation swirling inside those eyes did nothing to help his own miserable frustration.

"Don't hang out with the bitch. Just tell her no. In fact, don't even contact her."

"Brett, she's my friend."

"Friend? You can do way better than that pile of shit."

"She's one of my only friends in the city," Eddy pointed out, casting his eyes away. "And all my other friends here associate with her too."

"Don't care. I'll come over anytime you need me. Eddy, look at me." Brett grabbed his face and turned it toward him. "I'll be here anytime you need me."

This was the most forceful the 28-year-old had ever been in years. This was also the most angry Brett had gotten in the time Eddy had known him.

It kind of made him feel special, though he wished it didn't have to be in these circumstances.

"You live in another city."

"So?"

Eddy rolled his eyes as Brett squished his cheeks together. "You can't just drop everything and come here because I'm being emo or whatever."

"Yeah I can. I can drive or some other shit."

"If you have a flying spaceship I will kill you for hiding it."

Brett smiled at him. "That's the Eddy I know and love."

"Uh huh." Eddy tapped the other's hands. "Can you stop squishing my cheeks? I'm, like, drooling."

Some things only a best friend will get.

Brett laughed as he pulled away his hands and got up. "Seriously dude. I'll come whenever you need."

"Stop being so cheesy," Eddy complained, sinking back into the couch. He heard Brett laugh as the older man walked away to do whatever he was going to do (probably leave). Eddy stood up, resolving to burn all the pictures and memories he had of his girlfriend.

Then he reached his room.

He hadn't realized that so much of his life revolved around his second love, though now that Eddy thought about it, love wasn't the right word as much as obsession was. And hadn't she encouraged him? Hadn't she said she wanted to be the nicotine in his veins?

That was weird.

But what hurt was that there were so. Many. Pictures. So many memories.

They'd never had sex. Eddy didn't really like the idea of it. His ex had looked at him with something that seemed like disgust and said some stuff but he'd adamantly refused to have sex.

But he was a vanilla guy, so he'd cuddled with her (when she allowed it), hugged her (when she allowed it), and sometimes even kissed her.

When she allowed it.

And now there were all these pictures to burn. He tore down some posters hanging in his room and threw them in the trash. Thank god most were on his phone, so he could just press the delete album.

But of course he had pictures of Brett and selfies together in that same album, so he had to take the time and sort every damn picture out until an hour passed and fuck it, he could always take more pictures with Brett.

But he just couldn't press the delete button.

Eddy groaned, tossing his phone somewhere and walking back to the living room to retrieve his violin and retreat so he could play depressing Beethoven songs.

Brett was still there. In fact, he was scrolling through his phone and settled comfortably on the couch, waiting for something.

"Bro, I thought you left."

"Of course not."

Eddy paused, considering the time. "Are you staying the night?"

"Sure. Doesn't matter." Brett squinted at him. "What were you doing?"

"Just going through some stuff."

Brett looked much too understanding. "Alright. I made something in the kitchen if you want to eat."

Eddy shrugged, falling onto the couch next to Brett. "Let's eat later."

The older man put down his phone and looked at him seriously. "Talk?"

"Nah. Just... sit here for a while."

"Okay."

Eddy moved right next to the other man and watched Brett scroll through social media, smiling every now and then at the lingling40hours notifications popping up on the screen.

After a few minutes of watching, Eddy felt his head fall back on the couch and his eyes close.

"Eddy? You good?"

He hummed, feeling sleepy and nostalgic for the good times.

"You're going to have cramps if you sleep like that," he heard Brett say disapprovingly.

Eddy shrugged halfway and let sleep take him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Brett's take on what happened in Chapter 1.

Even though their fans thought Brett was deadpan, he was quite the opposite. Especially in the mornings.

After his coffee.

He finished his cup and picked up his phone, scrolling through his notifications as he placed his cup in the sink.

No messages.

Brett nodded to himself while flipping through sheet music. People usually didn't text him in the morning unless something was wrong. At least, Eddy didn't text in the morning unless something was wrong.

They had that kind of unsaid code - no texting before the evening unless something was wrong. Or if there was a really good meme that had to be shared.

After three hours of non-stop practicing - god, the Paganini with Harry Potter would be _epic_ \- Brett organized his desk. He may not be a neat freak, he reflected, but he could at least have the illusion of being neat.

He was looking at a picture of Eddy sticking his tongue out at the camera when the Feeling that Bears No Good washed over him. It meant _YOU MUST STOP EDDY NOW_. It was a feeling that Brett always bided by, because the last time he'd ignored it, Eddy had gotten into an accident, albeit minor.

Also, it gave him a reason to visit Eddy.

Brett set his things down and walked out of the house, barely seeing his neighbors or random strays that jumped for his attention.

But by the time he'd reached Eddy's house, he could see that the younger man's car was gone.

What was his handsome best friend getting in to now?

...

He'd already tsked at Eddy's messy room, frowned at the illegible notes scribbled on the sheet music, and straightened a random painting in a hallway when Brett heard the door open.

If someone else had discovered the spare key Eddy had hidden under the broken windowsill, Brett was going to kill him.

He peeked out from a room and frowned at his best friend's discouraged face as Eddy sat gingerly on the couch. What was up with him?

"Eddy?"

" _HOLY FUCK_!" the 27-year-old screamed, his arms jerking up in an automatic defense gesture. "Brett?"

He snickered. "Taking karate?"

Eddy rolled his brown eyes. "Whatever."

Then the other man went back to silence.

Brett felt confused - why did Eddy look like his violin had been crushed under someone's shoe? Why was he so silent?

Obviously, something was wrong.

He decided to give him some space before venturing closer two minutes later.

Eddy remained silent.

_Okay_... Something was definitely wrong.

Half an hour passed before Brett sat next to him carefully. "Dude, you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just some stuff going on." Eddy wasn't looking at him.

He was probably going to regret being so touchy later (crushes _sucked)_ , but he patted Eddy's shoulder. "Girlfriend?" he ventured, even though he hated the woman Eddy was with.

A sad chuckle. "You could say that."

Oh no. Oh, _no_. He might be a talented violinist, but he was much better at Fortnite than he was at relationship advice, which said a _lot_.

Still, Eddy was his best friend. Brett could at least offer a vent. Besides, he always heard more reasons to hate on the girlfriend from other people. "Want to talk about it?"

No verbal answer, but Eddy was decidedly nervous. He kept twining those wonderful hands together. And his shoulders were tensed so much that _Brett_ could feel the pain.

But he gave in anyway when the younger man said, "Let's make a video!" Maybe it would help. Maybe...

Eddy was painfully fake during the filming, his smile always a bit too _wide_ to be genuine, his bouncing too _bouncy_ to be cheerful.

The pokes still felt the same though. Ouch.

Then Brett forced him to sit down and tell him what the fuck was bothering him, because he just _could not_ stand to watch Eddy in pain and not do anything about it.

And all the cheesy but sincere stuff came and Brett decided that not only would he come whenever Eddy needed him, he would come when he _felt_ he was needed, because he _knew_ Eddy. Brett knew that the shy nerd he'd met in middle school would be the same today: unwilling to ask when some things needed to be asked.

"Stop being so cheesy," Eddy complained from the living room, and Brett laughed as he walked toward the kitchen.

He wasn't sure how the younger man lived on coffee and what was left in the refrigerator, but there was enough to make something, so Brett made a sandwich.

It didn't feel strange, being so domestic. In fact, he liked it - but only with Eddy.

It wasn't so much the house that felt like home than the person who felt like home. They were so comfortable, so in tune with each other. One could read the other's expression and immediately tell if the day had been sour or if the drink was sour.

They were _that_ good.

Brett swallowed the rage that kept building up. Why would she do that to Eddy? He cared for her. Brett thought she'd cared for Eddy, but _apparently not_!

He was going to give her a piece of his mind.

"Damn," Brett muttered, glancing at the clock. "I've been thinking for an hour?"

He set the sandwich somewhere safe before settling on the couch, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention because he could hear Eddy muttering jumbled words to himself.

A minute later, the most handsome man in the world walked out of his room. "Bro, I thought you left."

"Of course not," Brett replied, almost insulted by the thought.

"Are you staying the night?"

Of course I am you blithering wonderful idiot, he thought. What came out was, "Sure. Doesn't matter."

Then he realized that Eddy was still tense, so he added, "What were you doing?"

"Just going through some stuff."

Brett nodded, thinking about the numerous pictures on Eddy's phone.

He couldn't think of anything else to say after Eddy said he'd eat later and just wanted to sit for a while, so he started scrolling through social media again. Every so often he saw the younger man smile a small smile. So cute. And god, the proximity was going to kill him. He was _right there_.

Everything in him tensed when Eddy's head fell back onto the couch, but even after Brett voiced his somewhat impolite opinion of neck cramps the 27-year-old stayed in that position.

A few minutes later, Eddy was completely asleep, his mouth slightly open.

Brett tossed his phone on the table (quietly) and stared. "Why're you so cute," he muttered, tracing Eddy's nose with his index finger. "It's not fair to my heart."

And since it wouldn't do to have his love having neck cramps in the morning, Brett braced himself for Eddy's weight on his back, hooking the younger man's arms around his neck and lifting him up.

He was quite proud of himself.

Then Brett remembered. "Crap crap crap," he muttered, blushing at the mere thought of taking Eddy's shirt off. "Oh _crap_."

But Eddy didn't like sleeping with his shirt on (as he'd told him ten years ago), so Brett turned into a tomato as his fingers brushed over Eddy's stomach.

Accidentally, of course.

He knew men usually didn't wear pants to bed either, but Brett just could not imagine taking off Eddy's pants. That would be weird.

So he tucked the younger man into bed and _maybe_ kissed him goodnight, because once Eddy was asleep he was out like the lights Brett switched off in the living room.

And then he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I've discovered that Breddy authors that I look up to are monitoring this fic and I'm very freaked out right now lol
> 
> Also I've been wondering - would it be better for me to post both POVs at once or wait it out one week at a time? I only have a few chapters planned (and don't wanna disappoint anyone lol)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Eddy's POV on what happens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday... State orchestra auditions SUCK

The date was happening again.

Eddy entered the cafe and welcomed the rush of cool air. Summer in Australia was always, always hot, so air conditioning was a fucking _blessing_.

He made eye contact with his girlfriend and smiled at her. She smiled back, her hair shining in the warm light of the cafe.

Eddy plopped down on the chair across her and noticed the bag next to her chair. Was she going on a trip somewhere?

"I found a better guy."

He choked on his coffee, coughing as he eyed her. She looked serious.

"What?"

"I found another guy," she said, still looking at him. "He's better than you."

Eddy processed this without really understanding it. "So you're breaking up with me."

"Yes," she said. "But you're still my friend, right? You're, like, my best friend, Eddy."

 _Brett's my best friend_.

"Of course I am."

Then a blonde, foreign man came up to them, took the bag, and sat down on the chair. He smiled amicably at Eddy. "Hey there. It's nice to meet you. I've heard you're her closest friend here."

_Was that the only way she introduced me?_

"Nice to meet you too," he replied, all pleasantries and polite interest. "You would be..."

"The boyfriend," the stranger laughed, looking down at his ex as if she were the light shining in the darkness.

She looked back at Blondie and smiled as she had for Eddy - fake.

"I have to go, sweetheart," Blondie said, kissing her once before leaving the cafe.

No time to warn him.

No time to say, "You're my replacement. Good luck."

No time to say he wanted - _needed_ \- to go too, because his ex was looking at him with a fake smile and saying cheerfully, "Isn't he just _amazing_?"

"Yeah," came out of his dry lips. "He is."

And then she kissed him.

...

"No!" Eddy jerked up and choked on his own spit, coughing as he fell off his bed onto the floor.

The door banged open as Brett rushed in, his hair messy and his shirt riding up his stomach.

 _Don't think about that_.

"Dude, what the _fuck_?" his not-crush asked, his glasses falling off as he pounded Eddy's back. "Did a serial killer get your address or something?"

"Where'd you get serial killer from?" he choked out, his mind focused on breathing rather than the dream for the moment.

"You started yelling," Brett answered, staring at him. "Like, _stop in the name of the law_ or something."

"Stop in the name of the law?" If Eddy really had said that, he was weirder than he'd originally thought.

"Okay," Brett conceded, his warm hand now resting on Eddy's bare back. "Maybe not in the name of the law. But you definitely said stop."

"Oh," Eddy realized, thinking back to the dream. "That must've been because she kissed me. It was sh-"

Silence.

"Shit." Eddy dropped his head, unable to meet Brett's eyes. "Okay, that doesn't matter. Can we just go back to sleep? Also, what time is it? Where are you sleeping?"

"The _fuck_."

Eddy stood up and walked to the living room, where he pursed his lips and ignored every other problem he had. "Did I or did I not say anything about the room I had ready for you?"

"Eddy-" Brett started from behind him.

"I always have a room ready for you!"

"Eddy-"

"Dude, you actually slept here for - What time is it? - what the fuck, how did I get on the bed-"

_"Eddy!"_

He tensed.

"What do you mean, she kissed you?"

"Nothing."

"I'm your best friend."

"Brett."

"You have questions, I have questions, let's have a questionnaire on the couch."

"Where you were apparently sleeping," Eddy muttered, still annoyed. "Until _3 fucking AM._ "

"Doesn't matter," Brett said dismissively, sitting next to him again with his glasses in place. "What do you mean, she kissed you?"

Eddy shrugged. "Just some weird things that happened."

Brett gave him a look. "Weird things that you didn't tell me."

"Okay, well, you see, it's kind of embarrassing to talk about your ex-girlfriend of three minutes introducing her new boyfriend who doesn't have a clue she was probably cheating on me with him and thinks I'm her best friend and kissing me when he leaves especially when one of the people who matter most to me could think I'm disgusting for liking her ever," Eddy said so fast he wasn't sure the other man would understand.

But of course Brett was accustomed to Nervous and Ashamed Eddy, as well as Sad Eddy and Mad Eddy and Holy-Crap-I-Forgot-My-Violin Eddy, among a few others.

"You didn't say anything about her introducing the other guy," Brett said almost accusingly. "And that she was cheating on you. Or that she kissed you after she introduced her boyfriend. Or that you felt ashamed."

Eddy shrugged, staring at Brett. "Does it matter? It's done."

"Hell yeah, it still matters." Brett got up and started pacing slowly. "Isn't this harassment or something?"

"I dunno."

"Why were you yelling?"

He looked away. "Just a dream."

"Pretty bad?"

"It was the date."

Brett winced for him. "No wonder."

"Is it weird?" Eddy asked, staring at the distance. "That I thought I loved her? Because now that I look back, I really didn't. I was obsessed. And I think she wanted me to be. Like, I don't know, she purposely wanted to be a drug and then put me in a recession once she broke up with me."

Brett looked at him.

"Actually," Eddy realized, leaning forward and bracing his elbows against his thighs, "that's a pretty good analogy." He grinned, tapping his head and turning to Brett. "I'm a fucking genius."

Brett snorted. "Uh-huh. Yeah."

"But yeah, that's it. Now can I ask my questions?"

"Sure," Brett said. "But then I'll be helping you get over her. Ray will too," the other man added as an afterthought.

Eddy raised an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't we promoting another tour soon? We'll be busy."

"We can postpone it."

"The heck?" Eddy asked, getting up and putting a hand on his best friend's forehead. "You don't feel sick..."

"Haha, very funny," Brett deadpanned, going very still. "Questions?"

Eddy thought for a moment before following Brett's gaze. "Oh. Yeah. Why aren't I wearing a shirt? I thought I was wearing one before I fell asleep. On the couch. Also, you're starting to heat up, and I swear to god if you're catching a fever-"

"Um, no," Brett stuttered, jerking away from Eddy's hand. "No. I don't have a fever."

Eddy schooled his expression into one of composure before he could burst out laughing. "Alright. Then why aren't I wearing a shirt?"

Brett reddened. "Well... You don't like wearing a shirt when you sleep."

He nodded. "Right. It gets _way_ too hot."

"So... I thought you'd be more comfortable... not wearing a shirt. While you sleep."

Eddy stared.

Brett stared back.

He finally snorted. "Thanks. I don't even remember saying that, so I have no idea how you remember, but thanks."

"No problem," Brett muttered.

"Then did you pick me up from the couch or something? How did I get on the bed?"

"Why are you so curious about that?" the older man complained, plopping on the couch.

"Because! Did you actually pick me up?" Eddy started grinning wildly as Brett looked away. "Are you serious? I wish I had a video. How hard was it?"

"Not that hard," Brett said, watching him as Eddy walked around. "I just made sure you were on my back properly. What are you doing?"

"Wishing I had a security camera so I could watch that."

"Shut _up_ ," Brett groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this already but just to reiterate and emphasize my point - state. Auditions. Suck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I know this chapter is short and that wait T_T I'll try to make it up to y'all in the next chapter

" _Stop_!"

Brett gasped, automatically reaching for his glasses as adrenaline pumped through his veins. Was he hearing things or had Eddy-

" _No_!"

Brett shoved his glasses on and ran like the mess he was, kicking Eddy's door open.

For a moment he couldn't see the younger man, but the coughing gave his location - on the _floor_ \- away.

"Dude," Brett said, his glasses falling off from their precarious position as he hit Eddy's back. "What the _fuck_? Did a serial killer get your address or something?"

He almost didn't understand what Eddy choked out, but his scrambled mind understood scrambled words. "You started yelling," Brett said in response to 'Where'd you get serial killer from?'. "Like, _stop in the name of the law_ or something."

Eddy's face contorted. "Stop in the name of the law?"

He wanted to straighten out those frown lines so, _so_ badly. "Okay," Brett sighed, "maybe not in the name of the law. But you definitely said stop."

"Oh, that must've been because she kissed me. It was sh-"

Brett stared.

"Shit."

Then Eddy practically ran away and changed the subject to something entirely different - something about the sofa and Brett? He couldn't process it because his mind was too busy wrapping around The Evil Witch's Kiss.

"The _fuck_."

Eddy ignored him for a few seconds before Brett finally shouted his name and demanded _what kiss_ and _why didn't you tell me on the couch?_

 _Eddy would've made a good rapper_ , Brett thought as he unraveled the words spoken. Then he stared at Eddy and put a bit of bite into his words. "You didn't say anything about her introducing the other guy. And that she was cheating on you. Or that she kissed you after she introduced her boyfriend. Or that you felt ashamed."

Eddy looked nervous. Too nervous. Too embarrassed. Too _sad_ , so Brett got up and paced. "Isn't this harassment or something?"

The other man shrugged.

And then finally they got to the dream and then suddenly on a topic that Brett did not want to be talking about, because god _damn_ it, he was blushing so hard at Eddy's comment on the absence of a shirt and just _no_.

And Eddy - fuck him - looked like he was trying not to laugh.

And then they were on the subject of how Eddy had moved from the couch and fuck if he wanted this conversation over with and done.

"What are you doing?" Brett asked, watching Eddy circle around the room.

"Wishing I had a security camera so I could watch that."

"Shut _up_ ," he groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO I GOT INTO STATE MAN I AM BLESSED BY LING LING

Eddy stumbled into the kitchen, managing to bruise his arm against the doorframe and stub his toe on a random cabinet door.

Contrary to what fans might think, Brett was the functional person in the mornings. Eddy, on the other hand, was _not_. He wouldn't touch coffee before, but now that he really needed it...

" _God_ ," he muttered, rubbing his bruised arm with his eyes still half-closed. "My body's stopped producing caffeine and endorphins." Eddy stopped dead for a moment, blind to the world and all other questions except one. "Am I _addicted_?"

"I dunno what endorphins are, but nah," Brett replied, shoving a cup of coffee into the hand that wasn't rubbing the bruise. "Careful, it's hot."

"I'm still not functioning correctly," Eddy muttered, taking a small sip and cracking one eye 3/4 open. "Did you find the coffee powder I saved for when you visit or are you drinking this too?"

"You have my coffee?" the other man asked, leaning against the counter.

Eddy sighed, setting down the cup and grabbing a jar of powder. "You see this?" He shook it, feeling more awake. "It's yours for when you come over."

"Oh. Too late now," Brett said, raising his cup in salute. "Tastes like shit and smells like it too, but since you drink it everyday it must be edible."

"Uh huh," Eddy replied, draining his own cup and setting it in the sink. "So what're we doing today?"

For the first time during the Crisis of Eddy's Ex, Brett's face flashed with uncertainty. "We could hang out, but if you want to be alone I can go-"

"Do you think we'd die from too much sugar if we got bubble tea after this?"

They stared at each other before Brett broke into a wide smile. "Yeah. Let's go."

Thirty minutes later ("Dude, take a shower. I don't care if you smell like flowers and baby powder. Just take a shower.") they were at their usual bubble tea place in Eddy's city.

"Hi," Brett said to the cashier (Eddy was still painfully nervous when it came to small talk). "Looks like there aren't too many people today."

"Yeah..." The cashier squinted from her place in smack dab middle of the store. The place had a weird format. "Oh, hey Mister Chen!"

" _Mister_?" Brett snickered.

"Your girlfriend's over there!"

Eddy's eyes widened, his glasses glinting from the artificial light. "Oh _shit_."

And indeed there was his ex at a table with Blondie about ten feet away from them to the left.

Brett grabbed his hand tightly. "Ignore them."

Eddy floundered for words as Brett got two bubble teas, told the cashier to never call that _whore_ Eddy's girlfriend ever again, and dragged to him to a table to the left-

"No." Eddy dug in his heels. "No, we are _not_ going past them."

Brett just looked at him.

"Brett, _please_." He already felt the shame just seeing her.

The older man just tugged harder. "Gotta get over her, man. Might as well do it now."

And then it was too late.

"Eddy!" she exclaimed from her seat. "Fancy seeing you here!" Turning to look at Blondie, she smiled. "This is our usual place, since we're best friends, you know?"

Eddy felt like he might throw up. Apparently Brett could read that, because after one glance he cleared his throat and stepped closer to him. "Grab a table on the other side," he said, his gaze not leaving Eddy's. "I'll join you in a second."

Feeling sick, he obeyed, not sure why he was reacting so strongly to what should be a normal thing in life. Eddy set his hands down timidly on a two-seat table (TwoSeatTable for TwoSetViolin, right?) and just breathed. _Brett's here. Brett's here. Calm down. Brett's here, and Brett is alright. Why am I blushing, god damn it-_

His hands were still trembling a minute later when Brett smiled at him and sat down a bit too forcefully. "Here's yours," the older man said, sliding a cup none-too-gently over. "Cheers."

Then he drank so aggressively that Eddy wondered what the hell had gone down over there for Brett's passive-aggressive ass to be reacting as strongly as he was to his ex's reappearance and lies.

"Um, okay," Eddy mumbled, savoring his first sip with an innocence that washed away some of the negative feelings. He smiled, relaxing as Brett slowed down. Then his smile wavered. "Did she..."

" _We_ ," Brett said tightly, "are not talking about her."

Eddy looked down at his cup nervously. "Got it."

Then his control broke. "Did she say anything though? Because I _swear to god_ she is _not_ my best friend and I don't know _why_ -"

"Dude, calm down."

"She did, didn't she," Eddy groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh, fucking _hell_ -"

"I ended it before she could say anything."

Eddy paused, taking in the implications of that sentence. "We're going to get kicked out if there's blood."

Brett snorted, which broke Eddy's tension completely. "Of course there's blood. When I mean them, my words can gut people."

Now, that made him wonder what exactly had been said. It also intrigued him, because he'd never, _ever_ been purposely hurt by Brett, whether the weapon be actions or words.

They finished their drinks in comfortable silence, with Eddy thinking about why Brett looked so handsome in the light and Brett probably thinking about his boba tea.

It was intriguing to think about Brett's way of helping people open up. When they'd first met, Eddy had stuttered through his introduction to the teacher, collapsed back on his chair, and almost died from the embarrassment.

And then there was Brett.

Brett had said, "Hi! I'm Brett Yang," so brightly that Eddy had dropped his pencil.

Then the teacher had paired them up for math tutoring and _god_ if Eddy wasn't dying from the loudness. People were talking so loudly. He couldn't speak that loud! No one would ever hear him!

Then Brett had sat next to him and he'd blurted out, "Do you play violin?"

Brett didn't seem to mind the stuttering. He didn't seem to mind the way-too-quiet answers. He didn't even laugh when Eddy got a question wrong, just pointed to his answer and said simply, "Can we check that?"

So of course Eddy had almost cried because someone caught his mistake and fuck, everyone was going to hate him and then Brett was grinning and saying, "Wow, your answer was _way_ closer than mine was."

The teacher had swooped past them and muttered, "Pay attention," before slinking off to another pair who were goofing off with pencils in their noses.

"What does she mean, _pay attention_?" Eddy had muttered under his breath. "We're the only ones doing the actual work, god."

He'd jumped when Brett laughed. "You're so right! Why are _we_ getting in trouble?"

Eddy had smiled hesitantly.

Then Brett had invited him over to his house and _wow_ , they both played in the Queensland Youth Orchestra, and that all evolved to-

"No way."

Brett just grinned at him.

"No _fucking_ way." Eddy shook his head, pointing at Brett's phone screen. " _Lindsey Stirling_?"

"Lindsey Stirling," Brett confirmed, still grinning wildly as they walked out of the boba tea place. "Come on, we need new ideas."

Eddy sighed, unlocking the car and hefting himself into the driver's seat. "As long as I don't have to dress up as a girl again. My dignity, fuck."

Brett laughed all the way to the Sydney Opera House.

...

"We're going to need gymnastics or some shit," he complained, thinking back to the splits he'd gaped at. Eddy took a right at the intersection. "Honestly."

"We could try without the training. It'd probably be funnier," Brett added helpfully, scrolling down his phone.

"I don't want us pulling our muscles. Actually..." Eddy braked outside his house, thoughts forming inside his head.

After a few moments of silence, Brett asked, "What?"

"What if we did a dance challenge?"

"Dance challenge? Me against you?" They entered the house, Brett sitting on the couch as Eddy stretched out on the floor.

He shook his head, starting to grin. "No. Even better."

Brett stared at him. "A _rock_ dancing would be better than your hips rocking into the wall."

He slapped the other man's leg, which was all he could reach from his position. "No, I mean even better."

Brett studied him. "I think it's a good idea. Let's go for it."

Eddy stopped moving, his arms hanging the air. "You don't even know what my idea is."

"Mutual trust, man. What is it?"

He let his arms fall. They folded on his chest, as ungraceful as the rest of him. "Nah, it wouldn't work. Ignore it."

Brett leaned over and poked him, his face hovering over Eddy's line of vision. "Dude, what is it?"

"Inviting Lindsey Stirling for a dance challenge while doing the Ling Ling workout. Doesn't matter. She wouldn't say yes anyway." He sighed, reminded of the editing he had to do for one of their videos. Eddy sat up, frowning. "I'm late with the editing. I was supposed to get it done by today. Like, 3 hours ago."

"Doesn't matter," Brett said, echoing Eddy's previous words. "You're always late. No one will notice."

He couldn't decide whether to be insulted or reassured by that.

"Anyway! I should go now," Brett said, pushing himself up from the couch. "Any last words?"

"Thanks Brett," Eddy said sincerely, looking up at the man. "I really don't know what I'd do without you."

Brett smiled at him before taking his leave.

Eddy followed him to the door. "Call me if you need help."

"Uh huh."

"And if you get injured call me."

"Uh huh."

"And-"

"Are we assuming something bad's going to happen?"

"Always be prepared," Eddy insisted, snorting at Brett's quick grin before the older man got in the car and drove away.

Eddy already missed him.

He finished the editing an hour later.


	6. Chapter 6

Brett swore under his breath as he faced the shit coffee powder Eddy used every day. He didn't know how the younger man tolerated what was disguised as coffee, or enjoyed that - that _abomination_ , for that matter.

But since Eddy did like it, he made two cups and sat on a chair randomly positioned in the kitchen, waiting.

Eventually he heard the curses and knew that the prince was awake.

Eddy stumbled into the room and managed to stub his toe and bang his arm against a frame before mumbling about endorphins and caffeine. Then he froze.

Brett just waited.

"Am I _addicted_?"

"I dunno what endorphins are, but nah," Brett answered, almost throwing a cup at Eddy. "Careful, it's hot."

The other man muttered something else before focusing on Brett. "Did you find the coffee powder I saved for when you visit or are you drinking this too?"

Brett almost threw up from the combination of giddy butterflies and shitty coffee. "You have my coffee?" he asked, leaning against the counter. He didn't realize that Eddy would've done that. They were both considerate of each other, of course, but Eddy had the same opinions about Brett's coffee that Brett had about the other's. The fact that he had it still...

Sighing, the younger man shook a jar of powder at him. "You see this? It's yours for when you come over."

"Oh. Too late now," Brett said, raising his cup.

After voicing his opinion about the hell Eddy consumed every morning, Brett hesitated. How would he ask if his best friend needed someone? It sounded like he took him as a child, which he didn't, of course, but emotional support...

"So what're we doing today?"

Or maybe he wouldn't have to ask.

Brett felt a flash of nerves that made him way too anxious. "We could hang out, but if you want to be alone I can go-"

"Do you think we'd die from too much sugar if we got bubble tea after this?"

And that, Brett thought, was why he loved Eddy. His personality. His kindness. His talent at the violin.

And his looks, but it wasn't like Brett had fallen for him for looks rather than gradually acknowledging every aspect of the younger man's being.

He grinned. "Yeah. Let's go."

After some bickering about taking a shower with Eddy's somewhat feminine bath products, they were at the place they got their usual bubble tea.

"Hi," Brett said, knowing that Eddy, no matter how much older or famous he became, was not up for small talk. "Looks like there aren't too many people today."

The cashier squinted. Brett mentally sighed, not wanting to be standing right in the middle of the place forever. "Oh, hey Mister Chen!"

Did she know him well to recognize him that quickly? Of course, Eddy had a rather memorable face, but... " _Mister_?" he asked instead, trying not to laugh.

"Your girlfriend's over there!"

Brett automatically glanced at Eddy, who appeared as if he was going to throw up, before staring at a blonde dude and the bitch.

Blondie and the Bitch... he liked that.

Then he remembered Eddy was probably not enjoying Blondie and the Bitch's makeout scene to their left, so he grabbed his hand tightly and said, "Ignore them."

Eddy looked like he wouldn't hear a word, so Brett leaned against the counter for their teas, said, "Don't _ever_ call that _whore_ his girlfriend or someone will _die_ ," and practically dragged the other man to the-

"No." Eddy stared at him. "No, we are _not_ going past them."

Brett sighed, looking at Eddy straight in the eyes.

"Brett, _please_."

Fuck him if he wanted to hear that in a different situation, one that involved a not-heartbroken Eddy and a bedroom, but Brett wanted to give in to that pleading voice. To obey, because what Eddy asked (when he had the guts to ask) Brett would give.

But since it was important that Eddy learned to not give a damn about the Bitch, Brett tugged. "Gotta get over her, man. Might as well do it now."

Eddy flinched.

Oh _shit_ , had he hurt him? Oh god. Brett released his hold immediately, internally panicking as he turned around to set the drinks somewhere so he could fuss unhindered by stupid cups. Then-

"Eddy!"

That explained it. He felt a certain level of relief that he hadn't scared or hurt Eddy, but...

"Fancy seeing you here!" And turning to look at her newest game, she said too sweetly, "This is our usual place, since we're best friends, you know?"

Apparently the news that they were best friends hadn't arrived in Eddy's mailbox yet. The younger man was starting to pale.

"Grab a table on the other side," Brett said gently, squeezing Eddy's hand once before letting go. "I'll join you in a second."

He made sure Eddy was out of hearing distance before unleashing his death glare at the Bitch and sparing some pity for Blondie. The man was going to feel like he got hit by a truck pretty soon.

"Who do you _think_ you are?" he hissed, allowing her to open her mouth before raging on. "I don't give a _fuck_ if you're Anne Sophie Mutter or Hilary Hahn, you are _not_ playing around with _anyone or anything_ ever again, you hear me?"

Blondie stood up indignantly. "What-"

"She was cheating on my best friend with you," Brett said bluntly, not sparing a glance for the man. "Get out while you can."

Then he mustered all his hidden deadpan anger and focused the fury to its rightful criminal. "Mirrors may not talk," he said, "but be fucking thankful they don't laugh. The day Eddy needs a friend like you, he can shit one out."

Brett turned around before looking over his shoulder once more. "Oh, and don't call yourself Eddy's best friend. _I_ am. Brett Yang. Don't contact him. He's _mine_."

Mic Drop.

Since Eddy was waiting and that was basically the summary of everything he felt towards her, Brett picked up the drinks and set them down on the table Eddy was at.

The younger man was trembling.

That in itself made him even more angry, so he was very careful to smile and sit down. He slid Eddy's drink over and took a large gulp from his.

Eddy stared at him.

Brett took another gulp.

Eventually Eddy took a small sip, his expression changing to a delight that Brett never got tired of seeing. Maybe that was a reason why he liked bubble tea so much. He slowed down just to savor that moment.

Then Eddy's smile wavered. "Did she..."

Brett sucked in a breath. " _We_ are not talking about her."

Oops. Maybe he'd been a bit too harsh, because all Eddy mumbled was, "Got it."

Or maybe not, since the next thing Eddy did was burst with words. "Did she say anything though? Because I _swear to god_ she is _not_ my best friend and I don't know why-"

"Dude," Brett broke in, seeing Eddy fill with panic, "calm down."

"She did, didn't she? Oh fucking _hell_ -"

"I ended it before she could say anything," he interrupted again.

Brett watched Eddy process that statement.

"We're going to get kicked out if there's blood."

He snorted, thinking back to the Bitch's face. "Of course there's blood. When I mean them, my words can gut people."

They descended into a calm silence. Brett was already half-finished with his tea, courtesy of aggressive drinking, so he let his mind wander to other things. Other things being the complex man in front of him.

It felt like a date.

 _God_ , it felt like a date!

The feelings that invaded him made him sigh. _Of course._

He glanced at Eddy, who was probably thinking about his ex. That whore didn't deserve him - never had. Brett hadn't had proof of anything bad, but he'd always been suspicious. He would've preferred being proven wrong, but unfortunately his instincts were rather accurate.

"Hey," he said, walking out of the place with Eddy, "look at this."

They were walking so close that when Eddy turned his head, all Brett had to do was lean forward a bit to kiss him.

But he didn't.

He tapped his phone screen.

"No way."

He grinned, wildly delighted with Eddy's enthusiastically shocked face. It was just too cute.

"No _fucking_ way. _Lindsey Stirling_?"

"Lindsey Stirling," Brett replied, unable to wipe the grin off his face. Eddy looked so _devastated_. So adorable. "Come on, we need new ideas."

Eddy sighed, getting in the driver's seat. Brett hurried to the other side and settled in, watching the other man contemplate for a few seconds. "As long as I don't have to dress up as a girl again. My dignity, fuck."

He laughed. He couldn't help it.

And after the show was done - no way was he spoiling it for the readers that are now wondering why I, the author, cut out that bit because she might have been lazy - Eddy looked like he was using the Pythagorean theorem to calculate physics, which was probably pretty difficult. "We're going to need gymnastics or some shit. Honestly."

Brett knew they were thinking the same thing - _how did Lindsey Stirling do the splits while playing that?_

So he took the easy way out and said something about not having training and scrolled through his phone, wondering how other people had rated the show.

"I don't want us pulling our muscles. Actually..."

A pause had Brett looking up. "What?"

Eddy proposed the most unoriginal idea he'd ever heard come from the younger man's mouth, which said a lot. It almost made him worried.

"Dance challenge? Me against you?" he asked as they collapsed in the house. Brett sat neatly on the couch like the proper 28-year-old he was. Eddy flopped onto the floor, his glasses jumping slightly before settling down.

"No," Eddy said, his face contorting in a grin. "Even better."

Brett just looked at him exasperatedly. "A _rock_ dancing would be better than your hips rocking into the wall."

He felt a mild sting on his leg and rolled his eyes. Trust Eddy to retaliate. But the way the younger man's eyes were shining like that...

"I think it's a good idea," Brett said randomly. If it hyped up Eddy that much, it was probably going to be fun. Not just because of Eddy's sense for such things, but because if it made Eddy happy, it made Brett happy too. "Let's go for it."

Eddy paused, looking at him. "You don't even know what my idea is."

"Mutual trust, man," Brett said, even though he also wasn't sure it would be the best idea if they decided to jump off a two-story house while juggling flamethrowers into a pool, if that was Eddy's idea. "What is it?"

Actually, juggling flamethrowers while jumping from a two-story house into a pool sounded pretty cool. He stored it away for the next discussion.

(It didn't occur to him that he'd formed that idea while acknowledging it wouldn't be the best idea.)

Eddy's face fell suddenly. Brett felt the noticeable absence of his grin. "Nah, it wouldn't work. Ignore it."

"Dude, what is it?" He poked him, trying to get Eddy to smile.

And while the younger man's idea did sound a bit far-fetched (unlike the flamethrower juggling, of course), it wasn't bad.

Then he realized Eddy had said something about editing, which also had to do with their channel.

"Doesn't matter," he said, channeling his inner Ling Ling to remember what Eddy had spoken. "You're always late. No one will notice."

He could tell Eddy wasn't sure how to take that. To be honest, he wasn't either. But it sounded okay, so he left it there.

"Anyway!" Brett decided, standing up. "I should go now. Any last words?"

Eddy looked at him with the most genuine expression of sincere gratitude. "Thanks Brett. I really don't know what I'd do without you.

God, if that didn't melt him, he didn't know what could. But Brett couldn't actually say that, so he just smiled before walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I totally forgot about my existence 🤡. I have midterms coming up and I have 4 frickin tests for one subject (like who does that omg), so I'll probably be posting a bunch in January and torturing y'all with absolutely nothing for the rest of the month.
> 
> Wish me luck T_T and good luck to other people taking exams as well!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Three days passed before anything eventful happened.

Eventful being-

"I _refuse_ ," Eddy muttered under his breath, snipping at a wire with scissors. "My life is not going to be this _boring_."

He could almost hear Brett's voice saying, "Dude, stop, that's dangerous, you're going to kill yourself."

That just spurred him on - not that he wanted to die, but where was the excitement in life?

"Dangerous," Eddy said, jumbling the pronunciation as he snipped further. " _Dangerous_ , he says-"

The scissors got too close.

"I'll show him dangerous-"

The wire exploded, the scissors flew up in the air, and Eddy hit his head against the kitchen table.

" _Fuck_!"

The noise stopped three seconds later. He wasn't sure whether the echo was real or in his head. He was also mildly surprised the electricity didn't go out, seeing as the wire was... disintegrated, but it was a minor detail, considering that the _entire wire had disintegrated._

"Fucking hell," he muttered, poking hesitantly at the scissors, which were now resting in the sink. They sent an electric shock that had him weak for a moment. His legs collapsed from under him until he could control them again. "God, what is this?"

Eddy was about to poke at the wire with both hands when someone pulled him away harshly by the waist. "What the-"

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Brett's stern - almost scared - voice said from behind him. The older man's hands tugged firmly. "I was parked outside your house and I heard a boom and what the hell happened here?"

Eddy winced. "Uh... I can't explain."

He was dragged to the couch and forcefully made to sit down.

"Explain."

"I didn't do anything," he said automatically. At Brett's glare, Eddy winced again. "Okay, I did do something but-"

"You could have killed yourself!" Brett ran a hand through his hair and turned away for a moment before whirling around. "Do you realize you could have actually died?"

Eddy frowned. "I had gloves."

Brett looked like he was going to strangle him. "And you weren't _wearing them_."

"Actually I was, but they fell off when the explosion-"

"Explosion?"

Eddy resigned himself to an explanation. "Okay, here's what went on: I got bored, I found scissors, I found a short wire just hanging from an outlet, got gloves, snipped at it for a bit-" Brett looked like he was going to explode and then strangle him- "I got too close, ended up with it exploding."

"And where is the wire now?" Brett asked too calmly.

"Um..." Eddy risked a glance at the kitchen. "I think it turned into powder."

"Why were you going to touch it?"

"...it didn't look as dangerous as the scissors did."

"And did you touch the scissors?"

Eddy coughed once.

" _Well_?"

"I only poked it, I didn't actually-"

Brett groaned loudly enough to drown out Eddy's words. "Are you fucking _serious_?"

He fiddled with his fingers. "I mean, it's not like-"

"No, no, no. I'll tell you what it's like." Brett stood right in front of him, his anger simmering to the point of fury. "You almost electrocuted yourself. Not once, not twice, but three times."

"I only felt a shock-"

"A shock?" Brett grabbed his shoulders, looking into his eyes desperately and almost knocking his glasses off. "Do you have a headache? Feel weak? Do you remember your name? How many fingers am I holding up? What kind of coffee do I like? How old are you?"

"It was more of a tingle, no, no, yes, you're grabbing my shoulders, so unless you have more than ten fingers, zero, I don't know the name of your shit coffee, and I'm... uh... 27," he replied, finishing the calculations.

"Why'd it take you so long?"

"Math," Eddy sighed, patting Brett's hands, which were still resting on his shoulders. "Dude, I'm perfectly fine. I just felt an electric shock for a moment with the scissors."

Brett scanned him. Frowned. "You have a red spot on your forehead."

Eddy winced. "That's just a bruise. I hit my head against the table - _no_ , I don't have a concussion! God!"

It took another ten minutes for Brett to finish telling Eddy what exactly his thoughts were about the most fuckably stupid stunt he'd done, and another ten to convince the older man that he was perfectly fine, even with the bruise on his head, and that he should probably clean up the materials still left intact.

He carefully picked up the scissors (with gloves, as Brett had insisted). He put them down on a rubber cloth, as Brett had also insisted on something that could act as an insulator for the electricity. But the older man was cooking something, and he wasn't looking behind him...

Eddy glanced at Brett before-

" _No_."

He pouted, looking sadly at the untouched wire powder laying innocently on the kitchen floor. "But Brett-"

"No," Brett said firmly.

Eddy sighed. "You weren't even looking at me."

"That's because I had a feeling."

"What kind of feeling?"

"The feeling I get that says you're gonna do something stupid."

He paused. "Wait, do you actually have that?"

"Yeah, I have it so damn often I've actually given it a name," Brett said irritably, his knife dropping heavily on a carrot. "It's called the Feeling that Bears No Good."

"You should call it the BAE instinct," Eddy muttered, warily eyeing a spark that sizzled lazily along the wire. "Sounds catchier than that Shakespeare stuff."

" _Shakespeare stuff_ \- what are you doing?"

Eddy dove for the rubber cloth and slammed it over the spark that hit the metal at the same time as him. He was filled with relief at the absence of a reaction until-

" _Ow_!" he yelled, pulling his hands back instinctively. The cloth was smoking slightly, but Eddy didn't get a good look before Brett manhandled him onto a chair and ran for a first aid kit. "The wire-"

"Count to ten," Brett interrupted, focusing intensely on something on Eddy's left arm.

"Ten? But - _shit_!" He tried pulling his arm back but Brett held it in place effectively. "What is that?"

"You have a burn," the other man sighed, looking at him with an _I-told-you-so_ look. "Not too bad, but it's still going to hurt. And it's on your arm, somehow." He held up a swab of something. "Count to ten."

Eddy counted to ten. He watched Brett carefully swipe around the burn before saying, "You know, I think you were actually right about the feeling. Sometimes I get it too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, except you rarely do anything that stupid, so I haven't named it yet."

"Lucky you," Brett muttered. "Maybe this'll teach you to stop."

Eddy snickered. "It was exciting though."

"Don't care. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Who's the one who sprained his back for the audience?"

"Who's the one who had to be in a wheelchair?"

"Who's - Oh fuck." Eddy grit his teeth as the burn started to sting. His other hand clenched.

Brett looked at him with an expression of simultaneous sympathy and righteous indignation. "I told you."

Eddy muttered curses under his breath, making them so quiet he knew Brett wouldn't be able to hear. There was a nice silence that enveloped them. He jerked up once - which set Brett off on a rapidfire series of ' _shit_ 's and ' _fuck'_ s - but the oven had indeed been turned off and so he relaxed again.

"I think trouble attracts me," Eddy said, staring at Brett doing whatever he was going to his hands.

"In what context?"

"Romance. Behavior. Life in general." He sighed, thinking of his past dreams of falling in love and having a white picket fence with two children and violin. Well, maybe not a white fence. That'd be boring.

And there he went again with the 'boring's. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he had to develop patience and maturity before settling down with someone. Maybe it was all his fault. Had he aged right? Was he one of those sour wines that got worse the older they were?

"You're overthinking," Brett said, looking at him. "Your eyes always glaze over when you overthink."

Or maybe he was overthinking. What if the solution was so simple that Eddy would never get it? What if overthinking led to his past relationships' demise? What if-

"Nope, this won't do."

"What-" By the time he was fully out of his thoughts, Eddy found himself being dragged into Brett's car. "The hell, mate-"

"We're going to the park."

Eddy paused. When was the last time he'd went to the park?

Actually, when was the last time he'd even seen the park?

"Did you finish the editing for that video?"

"Oh, yeah," Eddy answered, watching Brett speed through the limits, honk his horn at a couple, and mutter something that sounded suspiciously like ' _tourists_ '. "It was the last one, so I think we can post everything now."

Brett glanced at him disapprovingly. " _That's_ why you weren't getting out of the house. You were editing everything." He took a left, glaring at the same couple from before. "Could've sent some to me, you know. Catch a break, fuck."

"I'm the best at video editing," Eddy pointed out. "You admitted that, like, as soon as we started getting into it."

"So?"

Eddy glared at him. _So we need good content for our channel._

"And?"

His lips twitched upwards. _And you know that_.

"But?"

Eddy flicked his arm. "But you won't admit that I'm right, so just be quiet."

To his surprise, Brett actually did stay quiet.

The park was a silent affair, the two of them comfortable with the silence. It was when they were back in the house and filming a LingLing40Hours video when it happened.

"What's this?" Eddy asked, peering at one of the top memes.

"A lot of words," Brett replied, his breath hitting Eddy's neck and startling a snort out of him. The older man started reading. "'Is it just me or...'"

Eddy skimmed the rest of it quickly before grimacing. "Maybe we should skip this one."

"I haven't even finished the first sentence," Brett complained, his eyes reading the words in front of them. His smile dropped.

"We can just cut this part out," Eddy muttered, exiting the post that asked about the supposed 'melancholiness' that Eddy was apparently showing. What did that even mean? He was fine. Not perfect, but was anyone?

Brett placed a hand over his arm. "They're just worried."

"I know, but where do they get melancholy from?" Eddy countered, frowning at the screen. "I'm not - I mean - Mental health, for fuck's sake - A break-"

"I think a break would be a good idea."

And suddenly it was hard to breathe.

"Not, like, a permanent one. Just a month off."

It was still hard to breathe.

Then he remembered. "Does this have to do with the day you went to the hospital?"

"Nah, I came out of that alright. I told you that I was fine." Brett leaned forward slightly. "I'm worried about you."

I'm more worried about us, Eddy thought crossly. "I'm fine, though? Nothing to worry about."

"You might think everything's fine, but you can't tell me that nothing's wrong when our fans have been noticing what's happening. I'm your best friend. I know you. I've known you for 14 years."

"I'm normal."

"You started trying to do everything on your own after Toni."

"I _wanted_ to help out more," Eddy pointed out. "I started editing to do that."

"And now you're overdoing it. I don't want you passing out on me, Eddy. If that means taking a break-"

"Listen, if you want to be a soloist, just say that. Don't sugarcoat it or some shit."

Brett sat back, his face indicating anger. His tone was sharp as he said, "I never said I want to be a soloist."

"That was your original dream," Eddy said, staring at him. "And now you're saying we need a break-"

"I'm saying that maybe we should make sure we don't die over this!" Brett almost shouted, his gaze fiery.

"We're not _going_ to die!"

"I'm still worried!"

Eddy closed his eyes and took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Brett almost never raised his voice. Shouting only happened when they couldn't hear each other, or when they were converging on a particularly loud area. They didn't usually shout. They didn't usually argue either.

But this was Eddy's fault.

Maybe if he hadn't jumped to conclusions... but how was he supposed to regulate that? He couldn't help it! It was just there, and what else could he do!

It was part of how he operated as TwoSetViolin. His days were spent creating ideas and practicing. Had he ever been different?

Maybe he'd changed. Maybe he wasn't the person Brett had thought he was. Maybe Eddy wasn't the person he himself had thought he was.

Was his mental health bad?

How did someone even measure that?

"Look," Brett said, his tone heavy. "Maybe we just need a break."

"Alright," Eddy said, his voice tight. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "A month?"

"A month," Brett confirmed. Eddy opened his eyes and tried to mask the hurt. "But a month doesn't mean we can't see each other or anything. We just take a break from the channel."

"'Kay," Eddy said, pushing up from the table. "I'll say something on our social media."

He walked away.

He was in his room, crafting a somewhat vague message to their fans when Brett peeked in. "Call me later, yeah?"

Eddy nodded. Unable to resist, he added, "Call me if you need help, you're injured, or if-"

"Again, assuming something's going to happen."

He tried for a smile. "Yeah."

Once Brett left, Eddy was back to his own devices, posting the brief hiatus on social media before turning off his notifications. He didn't want to see the comments.

His phone buzzed.

**Ray Chen**

_Are you ok?_

Eddy smiled brokenly.

_Yeah_

There was a slight hesitation before another message appeared.

_Are you sure?_

_Of course_  
 _Why would anything be wrong?_

He turned off his phone and sat on the couch Brett had been sitting on. Eddy liked thinking. It was a nice exercise, if not physically then mentally. Plus it helped him sort out thoughts.

For example, the ones he was having about this mental health thing.

**[Possible Trigger Warning Please Beware of Dragons]**

"I'm not melancholy," Eddy muttered, glaring at his reflection from the TV. There were tears gathering in his eyes, blurring his vision and staining his glasses. "There's nothing wrong with me."

Brett's words came back to him. _You're overthinking_.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Eddy shouted, his fists digging into the couch.

_Melancholy._

_Your teeth are crooked piano keys._

_You look like a downgraded version of Sid._

_I found a better guy._

_You're just uncreative._

_You don't try hard enough._

_Isn't he amazing?_

He welcomed the pain as he dug his fingernails into his burn. It was mild. It would go away eventually.

He had to find another way to keep the pain going. He would find something there. It would keep the hurt away.

And Brett wouldn't know.

He felt a dulled pain flow through him as a blade cut through the skin around where he'd been burned. It felt... well, it hurt, but it made him feel better.

It was seductive, this idea. He didn't have depression. He really didn't!

He was normal. Nothing was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL lemme welcome you to the New Year with a wholesome depressing chapter 🙂 You're welcome
> 
> How Midterms Went: Failed 1 epically but I still have all A+'s #asiangang
> 
> And did y'all see TwoSet's gifts video I thought my heart was going to explode (although I did enjoy the wrapping session...)


	8. Chapter 8

Only three days - _three_! - after Eddy acted all boyfriendly and _don't get into trouble_ -y before he left that day, Brett was having that feeling again.

The Feeling that Bears No Good was back.

"Damn," he sighed, putting down a pencil. He didn't know why he'd picked up the pencil. He'd just picked it up, and now he'd put it back down.

Why was he even thinking about that?

So Brett got in the car and drove, listening to Ravel's Tzigane. He hummed all the low notes and disregarded all the high ones, as those were Eddy's parts to scream at.

Why did the Feeling of No Good come so often? It wasn't that Eddy was _dumb_ , for fuck's sake. No, Eddy was smart. Very smart. He'd even passed the medical bar exam in the top percentile. But why?

The moment he pulled open his car door, a diminished C major 7th chord boomed.

Or maybe it wasn't. He wouldn't know. Eddy was the one who had perfect pitch.

But there was definitely an explosion of some sort.

Brett sighed, knowing that the explosion had a) probably come from Eddy's house and b) been the reason the Feeling that Bears No Good had called him here.

Taking the spare key and jiggling the doorknob (god _damn_ 27-year-olds and jiggly doorknobs), Brett peered into the living room.

Nothing.

A small _tzz_ sound came from the kitchen, so he went there, only to find that Eddy was not the smart person he'd thought he was.

He vaguely registered the room looking like it had gone through some hard times, but his eyes, as always, were drawn to Eddy, who was about to touch a freaking wire.

"What the-"

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Brett interrupted, continuing to pull Eddy back from the wire. What the hell was going on in Eddy's brain? Did Eddy even have one? "I was parked outside your house and I heard a boom and what the hell happened here?" he asked, realizing that one part of the kitchen was pristine while the other was covered in a fine powder of some sort. Upon closer inspection, Brett found a pair of scissors in the sink.

"Uh..." Eddy winced at him, his sheepish smile in full effect. "I can't explain."

So of course he had to have an explanation.

"I didn't do anything," was Eddy's next reply. Brett glared at him, wishing that he could knock some sense into that head. "Okay, I did do something but-"

"You could have killed yourself!" Brett shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Why was Eddy so casual about it? He could have _died_! He could have been physically _wiped out of existence_! That would've been a catastrophe! A _world disaster_! A - a-

He turned away for a moment to leash his anger before whirling around. "Do you realize you could have actually died?"

Did Eddy _want_ to die? Was that why? If he did, for fuck's sake, Brett was going to knock some sense into him!

Instead of answering directly, Eddy frowned. "I had gloves."

Brett felt like he was going to scream. It was a huge relief that Eddy didn't want to die but-

"And you weren't _wearing them_."

"Actually I was, but they fell off when the explosion-"

"Explosion?" Shit, _he_ felt ready to explode.

After a brief explanation about the explosion that had him wanting to smash something breakable on the ground, Brett asked, "And where is the wire now?"

He thought his self-control was rather remarkable.

"Um... I think it turned into powder," Eddy replied, turning slightly to look at the kitchen.

_Keep your eyes on me_ , Brett wanted to order. "Why were you going to touch it?"

"...it didn't look as dangerous as the scissors did."

"And did you touch the scissors?" Brett glared at Eddy as the younger man coughed. " _Well_?"

"I only poked it, I didn't actually-"

Brett groaned, his fingers tugging at his hair. "Are you fucking _serious_?"

Eddy looked nervous. Rightfully so. "I mean, it's not like-"

"No, no, no." Brett stopped right in front of Eddy, his death glare on to the max. "I'll tell you what it's like. You almost electrocuted yourself. Not once, not twice, but three times."

Did Eddy understand how dangerous it was? How close Brett had come to _losing_ him?

"I only felt a shock-"

"A shock?" Before he could control his reaction, Brett grabbed Eddy's shoulders and looked into his eyes, trying to discern anything that could possibly warn him about an injury. "Do you have a headache? Feel weak? Do you remember your name? How many fingers am I holding up? What kind of coffee do I like? How old are you?"

"It was more of a tingle, no, no, yes, you're grabbing my shoulders, so unless you have more than ten fingers, zero, I don't know the name of your shit coffee, and I'm... uh... 27."

The hesitation scared him to the bone. "Why'd it take you so long?"

"Math. Dude, I'm perfectly fine." Brett felt Eddy tap his hands comfortingly. "I just felt an electric shock for a moment with the scissors."

He frowned. "You have a red spot on your forehead." Was Eddy breaking out from stress again?

The man winced. "That's just a bruise. I hit my head against the table-" Brett sucked in a breath to ask- " _no_ , I don't have a concussion! _God_!"

"That was the most fuckably stupid stunt you've _ever_ done," Brett hissed, letting go of Eddy's right shoulder to gently touch the bruise. His other hand reached around to pull at little strands of Eddy's hair. He really didn't care if his actions contradicted his words or tone. "I almost lost you. Do you understand? You almost died. My best friend almost died."

"I'm sorry," Eddy mumbled, his hands coming up to tug lightly at Brett's shirt. "Just - it was getting so boring."

He just sighed, pulling the younger man into a hug. "I still think it was one of your dumbest ideas ever. Who snips at a wire that's still plugged into an outlet?"

Eddy was silent.

They stayed that way for a few minutes until Brett added, "Are you _sure_ you don't have a concussion?"

Eddy retorted, "Do I look like I have one?" and Brett answered, "You act like it," which started a bickering session between the two that lasted for ten minutes.

Eventually Brett stopped the - rather riveting - argument by saying, "Clean up while I make something."

After another discussion about the insulator cloth that Brett insisted on for safety ("Hell can only guess what you'll do.") they walked into the kitchen and stared.

So now he was using a knife that had been sorted with the forks ("I wasn't paying attention," Eddy muttered) to chop up carrots.

The Feeling that Bears No Good was already creeping up on him, so he said, " _No_."

Brett could practically feel Eddy pouting, and while had the urge to turn around for that precious face, the liquid was steaming on the stove.

"But Brett-"

"No," he repeated, frowning as liquid bubbled over the top.

A gusty sigh made Brett snort. "You weren't even looking at me."

"That's because I had a feeling," he said truthfully, wondering why he had to be the one who got it so often.

"What kind of feeling?" Eddy asked him, sounding genuinely curious.

"The feeling I get that says you're gonna do something stupid," Brett muttered, eyeing another carrot. Why did Eddy have so many _carrots_? Was he trying to imitate Jungkook from BTS or something?

He turned around and saw Eddy thinking, which was always dangerous in and of itself.

"Wait," the younger man said, his expression full of pleasant surprise mingled with curiosity, "do you actually have that?"

"Yeah, I have it so damn often I've actually given it a name," Brett grumbled, turning around and almost slamming the knife down at the recurring events of Eddy being in danger. From _himself_. Was it even possible to be like that? Then again, Eddy could tickle himself and laugh. "It's called the Feeling that Bears No Good."

"You should call it the BAE instinct. Sounds catchier than that Shakespeare stuff."

" _Shakespeare stuff_ ," Brett repeated, turning. "What are you doing?"

Eddy slammed the rubber cloth over the wire powder.

The only thing he had time to think was _Oh, shit_ before Eddy yelped and gut instinct kicked in.

His mind caught up when his body had already reached the first aid kit and returned to Eddy. "Count to ten," Brett said, ignoring whatever Eddy was saying.

"Ten? But - _shit_!" the younger man cursed, trying to pull away his arm. Brett gripped it tightly. "What is that?"

"You have a burn," Brett said instead of answering. He stared at Eddy with a _really_ look.

After some other unnecessary bits of information, Eddy finally started counting to ten. "You know, I think you were actually right about the feeling. Sometimes I get it too."

Brett was pleasantly surprised. Well. It wasn't just him after all. "Really?"

"Yeah, except you rarely do anything that stupid, so I haven't named it yet," Eddy snickered.

"Lucky you," he muttered, focusing on Eddy's eyes. "Maybe this'll teach you to stop."

Eddy laughed again. "It was exciting though."

"Don't care," Brett said through gritted teeth. "I don't want you getting hurt." _Again_.

"Who's the one who sprained his back for the audience?"

Ooh, _yeah_ , he remembered that. He'd had to lay on the hotel bed and not complain about Eddy massaging him instead of resting because otherwise the younger man would flick his forehead.

"Who's the one who had to be in a wheelchair?" Brett countered, not wanting to think about it. It had hurt to see a once-vibrant Eddy somewhat despondent and frowning. And injured.

"Who's - Oh fuck." Eddy clenched his jaw.

He sighed, looking at him. "I told you."

Eddy started mumbling under his breath - too quiet for Brett to catch, but said with enough annoyance to let him know that the younger man was cursing.

Then Eddy said, "I think trouble attracts me."

"In what context?" Brett asked, putting an aloe over the burn. Maybe he was being too cautious - or overprotective - but damn, burns hurt.

"Romance. Behavior. Life in general."

Brett looked up, watching Eddy bite his lip. Fuck.

Then the younger man's eyes glazed, which usually meant Brett had to pull him out of whatever negative thoughts were swirling around.

"You're overthinking," he said, watching Eddy not react. "Your eyes always glaze over when you overthink."

He didn't like how Eddy remained in the Land of Negative Thoughts, so he decided, "Nope, this won't do."

Before Eddy could protest, Brett had pushed him into the shotgun seat and was pulling out of the driveway. "What - The hell, mate-"

"We're going to the park," Brett interrupted on a whim, swinging around a turn. A short pause had him asking, "Did you finish the editing for that video?"

"Oh, yeah," the other answered as Brett muttered under his breath about god damn _tourists_ and their slow reactions to fast drivers. "It was the last one, so I think we can post everything now."

Brett looked at him, feeling bad that he hadn't anticipated Eddy not asking for help. " _That's_ why you weren't getting out of the house. You were editing everything." Brett turned left, mentally groaning when he saw the same slow couple from before. "Could've sent some to me, you know. Catch a break, fuck." He hoped that would encourage Eddy to actually ask for help. Overworking himself wasn't going to do anything.

"I'm the best at video editing. You admitted that, like, as soon as we started getting into it."

"So?" Brett asked.

He could practically hear Eddy saying, _"So we need good content for our channel."_

"And?" he countered, knowing that Eddy was probably thinking along those lines.

_"And you know that,"_ Brett seemed to hear.

"But?"

Eddy finally said something out loud, flicking his arm in retaliation. "But you won't admit that I'm right, so just be quiet."

Brett obliged, feeling the serene atmosphere of the park start working. He glanced at Eddy every now and then, both of them silent as the peace enveloped ongoers.

Then they were back at the house, ready to make another video.

"LingLing40Hours," Brett shouted into the mic, wanting to tickle Eddy.

They commented on the top post ("Damn boi, those legs!") and scrolled through, finding one post that had way too many words on it.

"What's this?" Eddy asked, leaning closer to the laptop.

Brett did the same. "A lot of words," he said, feeling Eddy startle slightly. "'Is it just me or...'"

What was melancholy again? He grinned, knowing they'd probably have to search it up.

He felt rather than saw Eddy grimace. "Maybe we should skip this one."

Why? "I haven't even finished the first sentence," Brett argued, skimming over the words. Eddy... mental health... what? His smile dropped.

"We can cut this part out," Eddy said, his tone just a bit off.

Brett touched his arm reassuringly. "They're just worried."

"I know, but where do they get melancholy from? I'm not - I mean - Mental health, for fuck's sake - A break-"

"I think a break would be a good idea," Brett interrupted, glancing at Eddy. Oh shit. The younger man looked like he'd been hit by a truck. Or something really heavy. "Not, like, a permanent one," he rushed to add. "Just a month off."

Eddy suddenly looked panicked. "Does this have to do with the day you went to the hospital?"

"Nah, I came out of that alright. I told you that I was fine." And he was. It was just a slight chill he'd gotten. The doctor had deemed him alright. Brett leaned forward, delving into his inner thoughts. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine, though? Nothing to worry about."

Brett automatically spouted off the speech he'd mentally prepared ever since he first read the comments asking after their health. The only reply he got was, "I'm normal."

"You started trying to do everything on your own after Toni." It was too true. Brett had forcefully grappled away the workload Eddy had unrealistically grabbed - or maybe not unrealistically, since his best friend tended to get everything done anyway. Which was even worse.

"I _wanted_ to help out more," Eddy said, his eyes flashing with warning. "I started editing to do that."

"And now you're overdoing it," Brett said, his temper and worry rising dangerously. "I don't want you passing out on me, Eddy. If that means taking a break-"

"Listen, if you want to be a soloist, just say that. Don't sugarcoat it or some shit."

Brett felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Yes, he'd harbored small dreams of being a soloist, but that was before they really got into TwoSet. "I never said I want to be a soloist."

"That was your original dream. And now you're saying we need a break-"

Brett raised his voice unintentionally, feeling his face heat with anger. His chest felt locked up as he shouted. "I'm saying that maybe we should make sure we don't die over this!"

"We're not _going_ to die!" Eddy argued bitterly.

"I'm still worried!" Brett spat, wishing he could change his tone to something calmer. He didn't want to shout or fight, but fuck if it wasn't hard.

His glare softened as he watched Eddy struggle to compare his priorities. "Look," he said, feeling the lump in his throat, "maybe we just need a break."

"Alright," Eddy said, and Brett could hear the tears. "A month?"

"A month," he answered, seeing Eddy's eyes open with a world of hurt swirling in them. "But a month doesn't mean we can't see each other or anything," he added quickly. "We just take a break from the channel."

"'Kay. I'll say something on our social media." And so Eddy left the room.

Brett sat there for a minute before realizing the camera was still recording. He swallowed. He could choose to delete the video - an attempt to erase the memory of this. Or...

"Hey," Brett said, staring into the camera. "Um. Eddy."

It felt _awkward_ trying to record a video for his best friend when said friend was in the same house, but, hey, he tried.

"I hope you don't hate me or anything. _Fuck_ ," Brett muttered, realizing that while the chances were slim, Eddy really could hate him. "Well, I _really_ hope you don't hate me. But yeah. I'm just worried about you. I want to make sure we're happy and that we don't lose our - well - yeah. I love you man."

He sat there for a minute just staring at the camera. "You know, if you ever see this video, you can talk to me. I'm your best friend. I think. You're mine, anyway. 14 years," he sighed, thinking back to when they first met. "You were such a shy little 13-year-old. You were way too cute, so I sat next to you. _Shit_. I meant - okay, you were cute. And yeah. Anyways. Don't beat yourself up, Eddy. I love you as you are and all that cheesy stuff."

Brett turned off the camera and peeked into Eddy's room, where the man was squinting at the screen. Where were Eddy's glasses? "Call me later, yeah?" he asked, wanting to make sure Eddy didn't completely hate him.

His best friend nodded shortly before hesitantly adding, "Call me if you need help, you're injured, or if-"

"Again, assuming something's going to happen," Brett pointed out, a tiny smile on his face.

"Yeah," Eddy mumbled, his own smile fake and somewhat broken.

Brett waited until he was inside the car and on a highway before he winced. That smile had been so, so unlike the real Eddy. And damn, it _hurt_.

He texted Ray, unsure that Eddy would welcome a message at the moment.

**Ray Chen**

_Can you make sure Eddy's alright?_

_What did you do?_

Brett huffed indignantly before acknowledging that he was probably the root of Eddy's recent sadness.

_I made Twoset take a break_

_You what_

_Read boomer_

_You what_

_A break_

_Are you serious_

_Would I be asking you to check on Eddy if I wasn't?_

_Good point. I'll text him_

Brett kneaded the steering wheel anxiously as he waited for Ray to text back.

**Ray Chen**

_He says nothing's wrong_

_He's not replying_

Brett felt a brief panic before his phone dinged again.

_I think he turned off his phone_

That made some sense.

_Thanks_

_Sort it out Brett. Talk to him_

_I know_

_I will_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so HAPPY NEW YEAR #2021ISAROUNFTHEBLOCK #PLZLETITBEANICERYEAR One of my friends apparently confessed his love to his friend and she friend zoned him; imagine that
> 
> Enjoy the last minutes that you'll never get back of 2020. Or not, that might make 2021 feel a bit better

**Author's Note:**

> Hahahahahahahahaha please be nice T-T


End file.
